Depths
by FrozenMasks
Summary: Swallowed by a blackness that held a sense of foreboding, it drew in the weary and consumed even the most immortal soul. AU


**Hello, lovelies. I wrote down a small plot bunny that my brain wouldn't let go of so I decided to post it. I'm going to establish right now that this is a one shot and will not be continued under any circumstances. **

She was surrounded by darkness, choked by it. The liquid black filled her lungs, coating her throat with the foul fluid. Her energy was gone, stolen by the inky torrent. The perpetual currents pulled at her limbs and drenched clothing, yanking her exhausted body down stream.

A darker blackness had entered her vision. This darkness held a sense of foreboding, giving ghastly visions of her own cadaverous body being hauled from the murky depths of her grave. Was she going to die down here? Her death, caused by the roaring of angry villagers carrying torches and weapons fashioned from growing tools. It wasn't her fault she was of the kind they despised. All she wanted was to be left alone in her castle on the hill, yet those beast-like peasants felt they must drive the "monster" from their home, and into the rain swelled river that she so despised.

The darkness had almost overwhelmed her now, having crept from the edges of her vision, blocking out the last of the light. Was this it? Will death finally great her immortal soul with open arms?

A great yanking on the collar of her blouse drove any thoughts of the eternal sleep from her mind. The chill night air buffeted her soaking body in immense gusts, stabbing the cold down to her bones. Water erupted from her lungs as a strong arm wrapped itself around her stomach and performed a crude heimlich. The motion may have been unrefined and clumsy but it did it's intended purpose and expelled the water.

Coughing heavily, she looked at her saviour through her sodden silver hair. She could tell it was a man from the flat, broad, chest that was supporting her back. His face was half covered by a mop of brown hair, while the other half was covered by what appeared to be a moulded black mask. The dim light from the crescent moon did nothing to help her identify the man further, and she could do nothing as he slung her limp form over his shoulder in a boorish potato sack carry. Her water laden clothes prevented her from regaining any form of her monstrous power. All that she could do was hope this man wasn't a member of her old village.

An hours walk later brought them to a small cabin, surrounded on three sides by trees, and the forth side, a cliff. The structure was small, but for one resident it was plenty big. The man unlatched the door with a flick of his wrist and entered with no delay. The young monster only had enough energy to lift her head from it's place pressed into the mans back to briefly examine her surroundings.

The cabin was a single room, containing a fire place with pot hanging above the burning coals, a large stuffed chair, a wash tub and water basin pushed into a corner, a wooden dining table and a large bed covered with a patch work quilt. A large chest rested at the end of the bed, the lid held ajar by a small wood stick.

The man, with care, shifted her from his shoulder to the bed, and proceeded to remove her, most probably ruined, riding boots. After, he turned away momentarily to return the smouldering embers to a lively burning state, and to retrieve several towels and a dry shirt and pair of pants. "Change." Was the only word the man uttered before leaving the small cabin.

With no other choice but to change into the clothes he left her, she proceeded to strip her own soggy shirt and pants. The shirt was far to big for her much leaner form, and the pants had to be tied around the waist with a strip taken from her destroyed garments, however, the dry clothes allowed some of her power to return, yet she still felt weak from her watery ordeal. The man returned shortly after, his arms burdened with freshly hewn logs.

With the fire, it was finally bright enough to examine him further. His hair was a dull brown, most likely made duller by the mud produced by the recent rain. His clothes were made from common sheep's wool, dyed in a collage of browns and blacks. The mask that covered parts of his face, in fact, wasn't a mask at all, but his own skin. It looked as though someone had poured tar over his face, and let it harden and fuse to his skin. The black tar like skin seemed to stretch to other parts of his body; it covered his hands-and on one, covered his fingers, creating ebony claws that glinted in the fire light.

"Are you alright?"

His voice was soft, but resonated throughout the entirety of the cabin. It sounded as though he hadn't spoken in an eternity.

"Fine."

Her own voice didn't sound much better. The near drowning and expulsion of the water from her lungs afterwards had made her throat sore and raw.

"Why we're you in the river?"

His question was simple, yet made her wary.

"You should know. Anyone who lives in this area would know who I am."

Her response was sounded blasé, but internally her instincts were screaming. Would this man harm her? She was in no position to defend herself, and if the long hunting knife she could see on his waist was made from silver, then being pulled from the river would become fates cruel joke.

"I travelled to this area last year. I don't know anyone. Even if I did why would that tell me why you were in the river?"

His retort was probing. Trying to find answers with this woman seemed to be like searching for a pixie in a group of fairies, hard and constantly avoided.

"I'm a vampire. Does that answer your question?"

Her flippant attitude toward his questions made him almost disregard her answer, until he decided to properly examine her. She may have been practically drowning in his large shirt but it did nothing to hide her sharp features, silver locks, or piercing red eyes. Well, that explained why she was in the river. The easiest way of killing a vampire was to drown them. The method takes away any chance of the vampire returning under it's own power. With the way she was talking about the area's populace, the villagers must have tried to kill her by throwing her in the river.

"Good thing I was passing by the river then isn't it. You'd be dead otherwise."

The vampire nodded, the silvery strands of her hair falling around her face.

"It's also a very good thing that I'm one of your kind and not a villager."

She stopped nodding to look at him questioningly, her head tilted to the side slightly.

"I'm a ghoul. A man with a corrupted soul."

Her brow furrowed slightly. Ghouls were products of improper spirit summoning rituals or failed species conversions. They were supposed to be evil creatures that only had their base instincts left to guide them.

"How could you possibly be a ghoul? They are evil, uncontrollable monsters."

Without warning the man was on top of her, bodily trapping her against the bed. A maniacal grin revealed fangs large enough to rival a vampires hidden in his mouth.

"Oh, we may be evil, but we can control ourselves just fine. No one ever gives us the chance to calm down from the initial transformation, so they kill us on the spot."

His breathe was warm against her neck. With her arms trapped at her sides she had no means of escape. With a critical eye, the man watched her. Her responses were different from everyone else he had ever put in this situation. Many cried, some screamed, one had even wet them-selves. However, this little powerless vampire had remained stock-still. The only indicator of her fear was the dilation of her pupils. Interesting.

After gauging her reaction, he promptly removed himself from his threatening position. The vampire remained in her supine position, allowing her hammering heart to calm. The ghoul just casually strode across the room and retrieved two blankets that had been warming by the fire. Throwing one on top of the vampire, the man sat down in is chair and wrapped himself in the coverings warmth.

"I'm Tsukune by the way."

The vampire say up and gave him a quizzical look. He had gone from a deranged psychopath to a calm gentleman in under two seconds.

"Moka."

Tsukune nodded in understanding, his small grin covered by the blanket.

" Well, then Moka. I think it's time for us to sleep. You must be exhausted from almost drowning and all."

The vampire nodded dazedly, before allowing her back to sink into the beds mattress. A few minutes of silence followed.

"Tsukune?"

"Hm?"

"Thank you."


End file.
